Almond Eyes
by Arcamion
Summary: It was easier to run, easier to replace the pain with something numb. But Sirius was tired of fighting alone. Then he meets Andromeda, and he sees his salvation in a pair of almond colored eyes.
1. Chapter 1

_Almond Eyes_

_This was the last time he would __ever _do a favor for James bloody Potter, Sirius seethed, watching the harbor slowly shrink from his view. True, he owed the Potters a lot, but he just never saw this one coming. When Mr. Potter had mentioned the family had been invited to a huge up-do in _Bulgaria,_ of all placesfor prominent stockholders in the Wizarding district, he'd thought nothing of it. When James had come down with a mysterious case of boils and refused to even leave his bed, he'd been concerned, but unsuspicious. But when Mrs. Potter had brightly suggested that Sirius go to the tux-and-tie deal in James' stead, to 'get his fill of the culture', it had all come crashing down like an enraged mountain troll. She'd known he couldn't refuse her, that tiny, sweet, _deviously evil,_ soft-hearted woman who'd given him so much. James had set him up, it was obvious. As Remus would say; hook, line, and sinker, and Sirius didn't even understand what that meant.

So now Sirius sat, seeing James' shamelessly gleeful smile in his mind's eye as he waited for the ship to arrive at the Durmstrang Institute, plotting every possible vengeance on his best mate he could think of. It was either that or smash something. He balled his hands into fists, jumping up from the chair and pacing angrily in front of the porthole.

His parents would be there. The Potters hadn't known that, obviously, or they never would've pushed him into coming. But he'd asked the guy greeting guests on his way below-deck and it'd been too late to jump for shore. Not without morphing into his canine counterpart, an ability he wouldn't dare flaunt. Not surrounded by this company, at least. His mouth twisted in irritation. What he wouldn't give to be Padfoot right now. Life was so much simpler when you were a dog.

A soft knock on the door distracted him from his bitter musings. Mrs. Potter opened the door and stepped inside, her wide blue eyes full of remorse. Sirius sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Sirius, I'm so sorry about this. We didn't know your parents would-"

He cut her off, shaking his head quickly. "Don't worry about it, Mrs. Potter."

She bit her lip, looking so forlorn and apologetic. It was a heartbreaking expression coming from the tiny woman. "If you wanted to stay on the ship, I would understand," she offered.

Tempting. Sirius almost said yes, but the thought of his mother coming _here_ if she knew Sirius was hiding out stopped him. There was no way he'd give the hag such a perfect opportunity. He shook his head. "No, that's all right, Mrs. Potter. I'm already here. I'll make it through."

She grimaced. "Well, I hope you like shellfish. That's all they seem to be serving here. I'd get dressed if I were you, Sirius. I packed your suit."

She opened her small clutch purse, rummaging around in it. The purse matched her frothy, shirt & skirt ensemble, which were pale pink slashed with gold. Orange-red curls were piled atop her head, adding another three or four inches to her miniscule height. Sirius smiled as she struggled to extract a bag of clothes way too big for the size of the small beaded purse, handing them to him. He threw them onto the bed. "You look nice, Mrs. Potter."

She grinned, a spark of humor lighting her wide blue eyes as she smacked him with her purse. "You know, Sirius, you compliment people far too much. Someday, some girl's going to catch your eye and you'll fall over your own tongue." Shaking her head at him, she glided out of the room so he could change, still chuckling musically.

Laughing was the last thing he felt like doing as he disembarked from the ship later that night. Rocks, weeds, and driftwood crowded the unkempt beach, it's sand slowly giving way to more weeds and scrawny grasses. The scents of sea brine mixed with decaying vegetation soured the humid air. The Durmstrang Institute was a few hundred yards ahead, light shining from every first floor window to greet the guests strolling up the stone walkway from the docked ship. People surrounded him, walking in twos and threes, all in some sort of formal dress. He'd refused to wear the dress robes that Mrs. Potter had lent him, he wasn't desperate to make a good impression here. Ahead of him, he could see Regulus striding toward the school beside his mother, her styled shining black curls barely reaching her gangly son's shoulder. He could hear her deep, braying laughter ringing out and gritted his teeth instinctively. Gryffindor through and through. Brave to the point of insanity.

Statues ranged the front courtyard, its centerpiece a stone replica of the Botticelli Angel, frozen for a millennia in mid-step, as if she were running in desperate haste toward the sea. He rolled his eyes. If any guardian angels were running, it would be away from this sorry spit of land. Long grasses inched between the cobblestones, infesting the grand entrance to Durmstrang. Igor Karkaroff didn't set much priority for upkeep, it seemed. The front doors to the school opened for the crowd, warm light flooding the courtyard. Sirius walked forward to endure his sentence grimly.

He supposed, looking back, it was stupid to think his mother would avoid him as carefully as he tried to avoid her. Bedecked in gaudy pearls and purple velvet, she stood waiting for him in the Entrance hall, standing on the second step with one hand fisted in her skirts and her expression like granite. He doubted she had any other facial expressions left in her, the old hag. He met her cold stone gaze as he approached, daring her to make a scene here in front of all these people. Walburga was a class A act in theatrics; the only genetic trait he'd ever admit to inheriting from her, apart from her gray eyes.

Those eyes were assessing him now coldly as he came to a stop in front of her. The people streamed around him, up the staircase. She sniffed dismissively. "I wouldn't think to see _you _here. Come back to beg my forgiveness?" There was a well hidden trace of hope in her question. Likely she'd been hoping since he'd left home on New Years Eve.

Sirius smiled grimly. "Never crossed my mind. I was invited here."

"They'll let anyone in these days."

"No doubt. How else would you get invited to parties?" he asked, still smiling. Her expression soured, broadening his smile to something like real amusement. These verbal sparring matches between him and his mother could never be called fun. After a few years, he'd realized the only joy she found in her eldest son was in cutting him down, and he'd met her head on with a bitter vengeance. It was kind of like sword-fighting with someone who threw rocks.

She threw one now. "Since you don't mean to return, you'll be relieved to learn you've been officially disowned." She smiled bitterly. "I blasted your name off the family tapestry myself." He flinched slightly and her smile widened. _Hag._ "Feel free to pick up the rest of your things at any time. I was thinking of giving your room to Regulus… as a trophy room perhaps."

"What, you didn't just burn it to the ground?" he muttered, finally shrugging past her and up the stairs. Her mocking laughter followed him.

The Great Hall was circular, ornate, glittery, Victorian, and boring. Karkaroff stood in silky dress robes on a small stage set in a corner, addressing the crowd. People were milling around the edges of the room, filling the seats of fancily draped dinner tables. He'd forgotten just how much he despised these parties. It made him restless, the axioms of England's finest. Everything here was choreographed; every conversation repeated a thousand times before it came up here, every compliment, gossip and scandal overused and dragged through the mud. They seldom got creative, and he was seldom interested in staying that long. He needed an escape. He couldn't go back through the Entrance hall, where his mother waited. His eyes cast around the room in agitation, finally settling on a small door leading outside. Escape. Hallelujah.

He twisted the brass handle and pulled the heavy door open, stepping quickly around it to leave before anybody noticed him, out onto the small second-story balcony. When he pulled the door shut behind him, a hand shot out, holding it. Sirius looked up, surprised, to see of all people, his great-uncle Alphard holding the door open. Alphard gave him a vague smile around a smoking pipe and joined him outside, shutting the door quietly. "Did you not want to try Bulgaria's finest cuisine, Sirius? There's sure to be _something _edible," his uncle told him matter-of-factly. Sirius shook his head.

Unlike most of the others in his family, Sirius actually liked Alphard. In his late nineties, with tufts of graying, wheat colored hair poking out from the hat he always wore, Alphard had the look of an elderly Sherlock Holmes, pipe and all. Most people thought the man was delusional, but Alphard was one of those rare men who walked the line between genius and insanity. Sirius knew he only prompted the misinterpretation of his mental state because it suited him. It was one of the things he liked about his uncle.

When alone with him though, Alphard's blue eyes lost their unfocussed expression and became the sharp eyed gaze of a man long in the game of politics. His piercing gaze assessed his young nephew minutely, leaving no detail unnoticed as he lit his pipe. "I hear you've spent your Easter break away from home this year," he stated around the polished wood.

Sirius shrugged. "I didn't want to stay at home."

"Your brother puts it more strongly." Hazy pipe smoke puffed away in the slight breeze as Alphard spoke. "I hear Walburga outdid herself with her histrionics. Though my niece always was one for tantrums."

"I was disowned, all right?" Sirius snapped. People who were disowned were never talked about, they were forgotten. It was like voluntarily orphaning your children. Though he'd expected it, it still shocked him a little.

The only response he got was a vague "Hmm, yes." Suddenly annoyed, Sirius looked out over the rail, leaning both elbows against it and folding his hands together, waiting for Alphard to get on with whatever he wanted to say.

Alphard spoke again. "So, how do you think to support yourself now? Obviously, you're almost finished with your schooling. You'll need a place to live, food to eat. Even wizards can't make something out of nothing." His voice was light and conversational, like he was asking Sirius's opinion on his dinner jacket.

Sirius shrugged. "I'm staying with a friend right now. I figured I'd start working after I leave Hogwarts. Save up my money for a place of my own."

"Hmm," his uncle said again. Smoke kept puffing from between his lips. "And if you were to receive some assistance in your endeavor… a starting loan, so to speak, would it help?"

Sirius gawked at him, his mouth falling open. "You mean, you'd lend me gold?" Sirius asked, astonished. His uncle nodded decisively. It seemed his plan had been laid out before he'd even followed Sirius outside.

"I find myself in a sticky position, lad. You and I both know the family's been waiting for me to lay down and die for years now and (as much as I dislike the idea) we also know these things have a way of springing up on people. Especially people with hoards of gold under their belt. So I'm trying to simplify the equation a bit. I lend you, say, a few hundred thousand galleons to start out your life, and we both benefit. I would rest easier knowing my grave wasn't about to be robbed by my own family.

"And besides, lad, I've always been fond of you. You have a much less jaded view of the world than some I see here tonight. It's refreshing." Alphard fell silent, staring out into the distance contemplatively. Sirius struggled to pull himself together.

"That would be… a huge help, Uncle Alphard. Thank you."

"Wonderful," Alphard exclaimed, his eyes fazing into the witless blue stare of lunacy he'd come to adopt. Smiling briefly at Sirius, he turned for the doorway, saying as he went, "I will arrange everything, lad. We'll be in touch." And Alphard was gone.

He leaned on his elbows against the wrought iron rail where Alphard had left him, breathing in the cool humid air. With Alphard's pipe smoke dissipating, he could smell the sea again. Wow, he thought. His grandfather must be rolling over in his grave right about now. Pollux had always disliked his brother, Alphard, even more than he'd hated Sirius. Sirius sincerely hoped he wasn't around when his mother found out. Ever since Walburga's father had written his will to her younger brother Cygnus to inherit the family fortune instead of her, her lack of money-handling skills had made them nearly destitute. Alphard had been right on the mark- Walburga _was _waiting for him to lay down and die so that she could inherit.

Damn it, he thought, closing his eyes wearily. He was tired. He was tired of a family who despised him. He should be relieved he'd been disowned from this family with their arguments and gold-digging and backstabbing, but it didn't ease the bitter exhaustion. It was too late for that. He was tired of all the pureblood politics that required you to walk this way, talk that way, or get _disowned_. He'd thought last New Years that getting away from that house would leave the painful tiredness behind too, help him get on with his life away from here. But even now he couldn't shake the fatigue that came with bearing a burden alone.

It was stupid, of course. He had James and his other friends to fall back on. They knew how it was at his house. They'd be there in a heartbeat if he needed them. And there were relatives like Alphard, on the fringes, barely noted in the family, who would help him out if he needed it. He wasn't universally hated. He tried to explain the tiredness to himself, but couldn't. He felt _alone._

His eyes wandered along the outdoor courtyard and path leading towards the ship. He could barely see it, a black mass floating in the shimmering water, reflected firelight from the first story windows glimmering against it's portholes. Against the clouded twilight, it had a ghostly appearance, intensified by the angelic stone statues in the courtyard, their beautiful faces caught in various poses of worship or stress. _Why don't you send me an angel? _he thought sardonically. _If anyone here needs one, it's me._

(A/N)

Any and all references to angels are from the inspiration engendered by Real Life's amazing song "Send me an Angel". If you like 80's rock, check it out. You won't be disappointed.


	2. Chapter 2

Almond Eyes

Chapter two

_Why don't you send me an angel? _he thought sardonically. _If anyone here needs one, it's me._

At that moment, the balcony door opened behind him a second time. He looked up in time to see a girl, maybe a year younger than him, quickly stepping outside, looking back over her shoulder into the hall. Her porcelain features were silhouetted in the hall's golden firelight, touching high cheekbones and wide eyes in a face so completely perfect it put the Botticelli angel to shame. Then she closed the door behind her, plunging them both back into semi-darkness. Sirius stared at her, wondering at the thin line between coincidence and wish fulfillment. Long eyelashes drifted shut, hiding her dark eyes. He didn't think she even saw him. Despite the beauty, she looked just as tired as he felt, leaning against the door there.

Long lashed almond eyes opened. Winged eyebrows quirked when she noticed him, but she gave no other sign of surprise. She just stood there looking at him, and he stared back, struck dumb. Then the heavens opened up, cool rain choosing that moment to fall. The girl's face was lit by a small, private smile as she crossed the balcony toward him, her wand materializing in her hand to wave a charm around them both. A faint aroma, like chamomile, laced the sea breeze. He inhaled deeply. It was warm, but sweet. Leaning an elbow against the rail, she looked up at him from the corner of her eye. The smile widened, but her eyes were careful. Who was she?

"Hoping to see the stars?" she asked, her voice conversational.

He found himself grinning back, replying flippantly, "I'd rather get rained on looking for my star out here than go back in there." Inwardly, he cringed. He didn't want to get into his problems at the moment, and he'd just opened the conversation. Sure enough…

Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

He considered lying for a moment, telling her that he'd won massive amounts of galleons from one of the men in there and was avoiding him like the plague until he could get the gold transferred to Gringotts. But those almond eyes were fixated on him steadily, and he went with the truth. "I'm not much for these parties." It seemed inadequate, but angel or not, he wasn't going to go into the deeper issues he was having right now, not with her, not now. So he added lightly, "Not a single one of them can dance and they all steadily get drunker as the night goes on." He smiled wryly, as if unsurprised.

Her lips twitched, and he figured she must've noticed the same thing. Her next question caught him completely off guard, however.

"Do you like to dance?" The soft voice was suddenly eager, as if hoping for a yes. It sounded like an invitation, though asked conversationally.

"Was that an offer?"

Those almond eyes slid away from his, her lips twisting in annoyance. She looked back at him, waiting for an answer. He considered his options: for one, dancing might make the evening go a bit better, and she was definitely better company than his morose thoughts were. On the other hand, that would mean going back inside, where his mother lay in wait, along with Regulus and how many other people he wanted to avoid. He didn't know if they'd leave him alone, just because he had an escort. In fact, he doubted they'd think twice about it.

She sighed, sounding irritated with his lack of response. He opened his mouth to say… what? He wasn't sure yet, but she was already walking away. He watched her reach the doorway. She looked over one shoulder at him, her long brown hair cascading down her back. "Tell me if you change your mind," she said before going back inside. The golden light blinded him for a moment before she shut the door, and it was dark again. He realized suddenly that he'd offended her with his silence. Damn it.

Cold droplets of rain began to hit him, stinging his skin where they landed. Wearing nothing but a collar-and-cuffs white button-up shirt and black jeans, he would be soaked within minutes, but didn't bother pulling out his wand to repeat the water repelling charm. Because a deeper coldness settled into him too, and he froze, realizing that for a minute there, he hadn't felt it. He hadn't felt that dragging tiredness that seemed to sap his energy every minute of the day, that he took for granted as an unshakeable condition. It had disappeared completely.

He looked back at the door she'd disappeared through. There was no hesitation now.

The band was already playing when he reentered the room. Scanning it quickly, he found her, sitting a little apart from a group of sixth and seventh year Slytherins he recognized with intense dislike. Her arms were resting in her lap, legs crossed and one foot twitching, making her fiery-red floor length skirt undulate in little waves. Her eyes met his from across the floor, and he was caught up again by the beauty of her face. Her eyes were a light golden brown, bringing to mind firelight. Almond brown. Focusing his gaze only on her, concentrating on ignoring anyone else in the room, he crossed quickly towards her. Apologize. Ask her to dance. Hope the evening ends soon. That was his plan.

He stumbled through the apology part, but he hadn't expected a smooth delivery. And he found out that he was right, she'd been offended. He was just about to ask her to dance though, when disaster struck.

Disaster had a smooth voice like honey. Disaster was 5' 8, twenty pounds lighter than him, and wore too much cologne and hair gel. Disaster also apparently knew her father and thought he was a real ladies' man. Sirius would've hated him on principle were he not already so tightly wound and on edge.

Sirius froze, hearing the blonde pillock ask this girl to dance. Literally, he felt ice creeping through his veins. His eyes were fixed to her face, trying to take his cue from her expression. She looked terribly uncomfortable, looking over Sirius's shoulder at the guy. Her gaze returned to his, beseeching. This was one request he could pick up easily enough.

"Actually, mate," he broke in, his voice bogusly cheerful, "We were about to take a turn around the dance floor ourselves, if you don't mind." He looked over his shoulder at the blonde, his eyes hard. _Back off_, his glance said. _She's mine._

To his relief, the girl whose name he still didn't know rose from her seat to break up the standoff between the two men. Her luminous brown eyes were locked on the blonde's face while she wound her arm around Sirius's, her hand wrapping around his bicep. He could feel the warmth through his damp shirt. The blonde sensed his defeat and backpedaled smoothly before turning and strutting away, tossing off a one-liner. Sirius resisted the urge to snort.

Turning his gaze from the pillock, he caught his mother staring at him. Her expression was mix of emotions. Surprise, anger, dislike, and above all, confusion. Then he realized she wasn't staring at him. She was staring at his date, the beautiful brunette with her arm through his. Why? He looked down at the girl, who peeked up at him. She quirked her eyebrows, tugging on his arm towards the dance floor with a small smile playing on her lips. He winked at her, knowing the gesture would be noticed by his mother. As he led her out onto the dance floor, he saw his mother striding away, her shoulders stiff.

Sirius led her to the center of the dance floor. It was an unspoken rule; couples in the middle of the floor never got cut in on. On the fringes, people traded partners like the stock market, trading up and up, trying to get the best deal. But in the center…

He turned to face her. His gaze was immediately drawn to her eyes again. He couldn't help it. Warm almond brown, they seemed to glow with an inner fire. He could feel it's warmth. Her hand slid from his bicep, down his forearm, and to his hand. She twined her fingers in his, raising their hands to shoulder-height. Sirius pulled her close with his other hand on the small of her back, and her other hand moved to his shoulder. He probably should've just put his hand on her hip, probably shouldn't hold her so close, but a reckless feeling spread through him in the absence of the exhaustion. He wanted that blonde pillock to see him, wanted his mother, his brother, and everyone else to see that she was dancing with him.

Then, when they took their first step, everything was driven out of his mind except the mystery of the girl in his arms. She danced like molten Mercury, fluid and smooth and hot to the touch. Her hand burned in his hand. Her eyes caught the light and burned into his soul, erasing the fatigue that always lingered there. He didn't feel as if he was leading her around the ballroom. They were simply moving, so wrapped up in the heat that he couldn't say for sure where he began and she left off. The fire left no room for the pain, tiredness, or the cold. She made it all disappear for him, and it disturbed him that she could have this effect on him, when he didn't even know her name.

"My name's Sirius, by the way. I don't think we were introduced," he told her quietly.

Then his world, which had shrunk to the point of her and him, came crashing down with one word. "Andromeda," she told him. He noticed she didn't say her last name. She didn't need to: it was Black. She was the daughter of his mother's brother, who'd inherited the family fortune. Was this why she'd come out to the balcony? Because she'd seen Alphard leave and return and had been curious why. He felt a small sting, like betrayal. His family hated him. Why would she dance with him? She had to know who he was, even if he hadn't recognized her. He was probably the hot-topic on the rumor mill. The washout who'd finally been thrown out onto the street.

Testing her, he commented lightly, "Our parents won't be too happy." He watched her face carefully. What would she say? Her eyes darkened for an instant, dropped from his. It was almost fear, worry maybe, at the thought of their parents' displeasure.

Then she laughed, a sparkling sound like champagne, it stunned him. Merriment was in her eyes as she replied saucily. "Many a pureblood has courted his cousin. It's when you take it off the dance floor that the scandals begin." Relief eased through him, and he could join in her laughter at the truth of the statement. After all, his own mother had married her third cousin for the sake that he was pureblooded.

They continued to waltz, and Sirius somehow forgot there were people in this room watching him. He didn't see them whispering. He never felt the aching fatigue This new warmth spreading through him was like a balm, it seemed to come from somewhere within Andromeda, flowing from her touch, her almond brown eyes, her closeness. Spinning around the dance floor, he forgot everything but her, and didn't even notice the number of people staring at the two of them as the night progressed. As far as he knew, it was only her and him here.

With a feeling of surrender, Sirius decided to put aside her motivations for tonight. He would dwell on this tomorrow, he could at least give himself tonight.

Then, after the band stopped playing, he had a revelation, realizing the answer to his question before. He asked her to dance one more time, an easy, internal rhythm that neither of them needed music for on the dance floor. The reason for the perpetual tiredness, it was only that he'd been alone. He always was these days, brooding on issues he couldn't help or affect. Right now though, he was too busy being caught up in the moment to worry about the future, or regret the past. Right now, she was saving him from himself. Caught up in the moment with a pair of almond eyes. Hallelujah.

(A/N)

Want to see Andromeda's take on their dance in Durmstrang? Read my other fic, "A Little Bit Reckless". Same story- different point of view. Maybe some quotes would peak your interest, hmm?

Andromeda looked around the closed-in courtyard. It never ceased to amaze her exactly how paranoid a man like Karkaroff could be. The man hadn't built Durmstrang for students, he'd built it for keeping armies at bay.

"I wonder that you two would look wonderful together." Druella savored the idea a moment, as if looking wonderful together was the epitome of a perfect marriage.

"We've danced every dance- lasted longer than the band," he observed. At her reluctant smile, he ducked his head to murmur in her ear, "But who needs the band anyway?"

THERE WILL BE MORE

And by the way…

My sister, the "tea expert" has brought something to my attention. Chamomile, the scent of Andromeda's hair, was meant to be the aromatic, cultivated plant, the kind used in incense and potpourri. She mentioned that wild chamomile, commonly known as "Dog Fennel" has a vastly different scent. A quite disgusting one, apparently. We're going for good vibes here, people! Think incense! 3 Kt


	3. Chapter 3

_Almond Eyes_

_Chapter three_

_The next day, Sirius woke around noon in a foul mood. After the function at Durmstrang had ended, he'd walked Andromeda to the ship before flooing to the Potters. He hadn't even seen James, though he'd stopped at his mate's room on his way to his bed, where he collapsed, dog-tired. He'd slept fitfully, convoluted dreams of heat and flickering candlelight making him toss and turn all night. It gave him a pounding headache._

_He finally got up, feeling stiff and exhausted. The tiredness didn't bother him, he was used to it obviously. It was just how freaking __sore_ he was. Dancing for almost three hours straight was definitely not one of his more brilliant plans. He felt as if Hagrid had sat on top of him. His every muscle protested the slightest move. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled down the hall. 

Sirius pushed open James' bedroom door. James was there this time, and jumped up from his desk chair, his thin face alight with the glory of triumph. "Padfoot, she said yes!" he shouted.

Sirius paused, his jaw dropping momentarily. He immediately shut it, irritation reasserting itself rapidly. "Well, I guess this means you'll die a happy man. Prongs, because I am going to _murder _you!"

James blinked, confused by his outburst. "Me? What'd I do?"

"You set me up!" 

"Oh," James replied, obviously just entering the conversation. "Yeah. Listen, Padfoot. I didn't think they'd make you go to that thing in my place, really. I just needed a weekend to sneak out and…" he shrugged, as if in surrender to fate. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him wordlessly, obviously waiting for more.

"So… how was it?" James asked in a pathetic attempt to make Sirius stop glaring. "Did you pull any pranks, get any girls? Was anyone there under forty?"

"Yeah, it was great. Half Slytherin house was there. Along with half my family. I was welcomed back like the prodigy I am. You'd think I never left. Hell, they were all over me. It was _just_ like old times," Sirius spit out. He knew he was being stupid, but he was too irritated to care. His head was pounding and he hadn't had enough time to sort out the previous night, only enough to know it had been one hell of a roller coaster ride. 

"Wow, mate. Sorry. I didn't know," James said, running a hand through his hair. Sirius sighed, crossing his arms and glaring at a poster on the wall. It wasn't James' fault, he tried to tell himself. His mate hadn't known what would happen.

"It's fine, James. It wasn't all bad, just a long night." The first couple hours had been, at least. 

"Tell me about it," James replied, falling back on his bed and stretching out. "I didn't get home until three."

Sirius looked at him in confusion as he leaned against James' desk. "Yeah, I saw you weren't in. Where were you?"

"Lily's," James said, a goofy smile crossing his face as his eyes closed dreamily. "Her parents were gone for the weekend, so we stayed at her place. Man, can you believe I actually proposed to her?"

"She didn't start crying, did she?" Sirius asked, trying to imagine the scene. He'd known James had gotten a ring. Remus had had to go with him to the jewelers, he'd been so panicked.

"Lily? Nah. She's made of stronger stuff than that."

They sat in silence for awhile. Then James spoke again, his eyes cracking open to regard Sirius. "So… how'd your family take seeing you again? I mean, what did they say? It's been… what, three months?"

Anger pulsed hot through Sirius again, making his headache worse. He looked away from his friend, down at the floor. In a hollow voice, he replied, "I'm supposed to go pack my things. My mother disowned me."

Swearing, James jumped off the bed. His eyes wide, he demanded, "Man, are you joking?" Sirius just looked at him tiredly and James took his silence as assent. Swearing again, he paced the length of his room before turning back towards Sirius. "I'll go with you to pack your stuff."

Sirius shook his head, though he appreciated his friend's support. "Not on your life, Prongs. You don't know how to handle her when she gets like this. I'll do it."

"No way," James shot back hotly. "I'm not letting you go there alone. Don't you remember how you looked last New Years? It was _that _bad."

"No." There was a note of finality in Sirius's tone as he stared James down. Gray eyes locked on hazel. Finally, James relented.

"Tell me if you change your mind, all right?"

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks mate." Sirius said, smiling wryly. 

Pushing against the desk, he hauled himself to his feet, a groan coming through clenched teeth. Merlin, he was sore. James looked at him quizzically. "You look pretty rough, Padfoot. What happened to you?"

"Nothing, Prongs."

"You look like you're about to fall over."

"I'm fine." He _felt _like he was going to fall over. . 

"That's what you always say." Crossing the room, James grabbed his shoulder, and Sirius nearly went down. His friend steadied him as he staggered. "Look Sirius, as your best mate, it's my job to have your back. Could you help me out here a little bit?" Apparently, James seemed to think Sirius had come out worst off in a fight.

Sirius burst out laughing. His chest hurt like hell with the movement. "I don't think there's much you could do, mate." He grinned. "It was totally worth it." Sirius tried to stretch, winced, and gave up. "After my mum had a go at me, I was on the dance floor for most of the night." 

Reassured, James perked right up, sitting back on his bed. "Yeah? I thought you couldn't dance." 

Sirius snorted. "Think again, and not that freestyle crap you and Wormtail try to pull. I'm talking about real dancing. The whole nine yards. With the most gorgeous girl." James looked skeptical, like he was about to ask questions, so Sirius added dryly, "You might want to think about learning how to dance Prongs… for your wedding at least." He had the pleasure of watching his best mate's face bleach white at the thought. James swore again.

Saturday afternoon, a week later, an owl came for him, depositing an envelope with the official Gringott's seal on his bed. He'd opened it to find a letter and a small golden key to his very own vault, courtesy of Alphard. Wryly, he wondered how long it would take his mother to discover the transference of the gold. He decided to go pack his things before she burned them all in vengeance. 

It made for a somber evening. He told the Potters he'd been kicked out for good, and about the gold his Uncle Alphard had lent him. Mr. Potter told him he could stay as long as he wanted, and Mrs. Potter had gotten teary-eyed, saying Sirius was "like a second son" to her. It had touched him, but even that small warmth couldn't block out the bitter dragging at his mind at the thought of what he had to do. James followed him to the floo, probably waiting for a moment of weakness where Sirius would ask him to come with. Sirius kept his mouth shut.

"At least you won't have to go back anymore," James had said bracingly as the fire turned green. 

Sirius gave him a smile, but he could tell it didn't come out right. Closing his eyes, he turned toward the fire. "Number 12, Grimmauld Place." The last thing he saw was James' worried face as he was whirled away.

The green firelight illuminated the dark kitchen fluorescently, scattering into a thousand neon beams as it ricocheted across crystal and silver. Sirius stepped out of the fire warily, looking around. Nobody there. He let out his breath. Maybe he was alone after all. Creeping up the stairs, he made progress silently through the house. Passing the dismembered elf heads in the hallway, he could hear the wireless going in the living room. Listening carefully, he could also hear Regulus talking over it, probably calling someone from the floo. He went upstairs.

The portraits in the hall were all sleeping, and Sirius almost began to believe he'd make it to his room without being stopped. He froze at the top of the first-story stairs, hearing a dry cough. _Please be asleep, _he prayed fervently.

"Ah, young Sirius. Come to grace us with your presence?" _Damn._ Sirius turned slowly to face one of his long dead relatives, sitting on a throne in the life-size portrait. 

His long, bony fingers stroking his golden wine glass, Sirius Black II stared down at his descendent and namesake with a sneer, skin stretched translucently over his skull and cold malice in his ebony gaze. Lank black hair was swept back from his overbearing forehead. "Did you not hear the news, boy? I thought people fifty miles away would hear your mother screeching. She was worse than that blasted house elf. Then again, if _I _had a son like hers…"

Sirius bared his teeth. "Hasn't anyone told you you're dead yet? Go to hell. " Oddly enough, he heard Lily's voice in his head. _Oh, very mature, Sirius. _

Spider-thin eyebrows arched upward at his tone. "I knew I must be. I would never have allowed this family to be so exploited by such an ungrateful little heathen. You are an abomination." _The phrase might have been more impressive if you hadn't said it a million times before._

"That he is," another portrait chimed in, it's nasally female voice grating. "How dare you show your face in these halls of my forefathers? You're a disgrace to the Black family." _Same old insults. Creativity apparently isn't an inherited trait._

"Now, now, Lysandra," a dulcet woman's voice soothed from yet another portrait down the hall. "Mayhap the lad came to ask forgiveness for our shame." If he wasn't so tightly wound, Sirius might have actually laughed at that one.

More portraits began to chime in with accusations and insults to him and each other, back and forth until the sounds were echoing throughout the house. Sirius's head swam, and he wondered if he was really going to pass out. He put out a hand to steady himself on the wall. Now was _definitely _not the time. He started walking forward, his eyes tight against the yelling of the portraits as he passed them. Then, as if on cue, they all grew quiet. 

Sirius looked over his shoulder to see Regulus at the top of the first floor staircase. _Damn_. He'd hoped to spare Regulus from a last goodbye, knowing how hard the family feud had been on his younger brother. 

Sirius took the first good look at his brother he'd had since that fateful battle on New Years. A good five inches shorter than him, Regulus was nearing his sixteenth birthday, but hadn't reached his full growth yet. Wiry and pale, he'd always been the runt of the litter, even among other fifth years. It was part of the reason he'd been picked for Seeker on his house team. Even after this many years, Sirius felt a measure of nostalgic pride every Quidditch match his brother played in. He'd taught Regulus Quidditch when they were kids. Before life got complicated.

"You came back," Regulus said softly. 

"Just to get my things," Sirius replied. Volumes were said in those five words. He knew Regulus could see this was final. His little brother had always been quick.

His brother's leaf-green eyes seemed to darken a little. His gaze flickered away from Sirius. Disappointment. "You know, if you only asked her… she'd probably-"

"No, Reggie, she wouldn't. And even if she did, I wouldn't want to come back anyway. I don't want anything to do with this family." Sirius winced at the harsh words. He hadn't wanted to drag his little brother into this. Where Sirius had always made waves with their parents, Regulus had only struggled to keep his head above water. His little brother had had it harder than him, groomed and brow-beaten to be everything he wasn't. Slytherin, Prefect, on the Quidditch team. As far as their parents were concerned, Regulus was a carbon-copy of perfection. And his little brother had suffered for that estimation. Guilt tore at him.

"Why?" Regulus's eyes met his imploringly. Something like pain laced the question. He'd thought Reggie would be glad he was leaving, his brother hated the fights that shook the rafters just as much as he did. "Why is it so hard for you to be here?"

"Because it's all wrong, Reggie. Haven't you noticed? Have you ever listened to the portraits? They're practically drooling with their pureblood mania." Sirius gestured toward their painted relatives, who sneered and muttered darkly. Something flared inside him, maybe it was the need to be understood. He'd gotten a taste of it from his uncle. Maybe he could make Regulus see his side, too. "They think we're freaking _royalty_, Reggie_._ Like we have the right to kick people around because of our ancestry, We're no better than anybody else. You could've been born a muggle! I could've been born a squib. I'm not proud of a family like this. I don't think I should be; beheading house elves, muggle hunting, dark arts. What's so great about that? 

"Look there." Sirius stabbed his finger towards a blank stretch of wall, it's wood darker around the edges of a square shape, where a picture had been taken down. "Whose portrait was there?"

Regulus regarded the wall warily as if it might bite, answering automatically. "Cedrella Black-Weasley" His gaze swung back to Sirius. "She married a blood traitor." His face twisted instinctively into disdain. Carbon-copied perfect disgust.

Sirius stared him down, wanting to shake him. "She married someone who made her happy. Who took care of her and didn't go out of his way to dig his heel into people's faces. _What's wrong with that!?" _He almost shouted the question at his brother, trying to block out the portraits' mutters. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a steadying breath. This wasn't Reggie's fault.

Regulus seemed to mull over his words, hoping to validate his parents, trying to find the right answer. Sirius knew there wasn't one. He'd tried before. 'A less jaded view of the world' his uncle had said he had. Maybe that was why he'd never understood his parents' pureblood superiority complex.

At last, Sirius sighed. "Lets put it this way. I could go around, acting just like how they want me to act, being everything they want me to be. It would be easy, I would be living the good life. But how would I justify myself to anybody without my _noble ancestry _as an excuse? That's what's so great about their superiority. They tell themselves they don't have to justify their actions to anybody, just so they can go around doing whatever they want. Nobody needs that kind of power. Not unless they know how to use it right. And they don't, Reggie."

Sirius didn't know if his message had sunk in, but there was no other way he could explain it. Maybe a sense of honor was a Gryffindor trait. Regardless, he turned and went up the stairs, heading for his room. Regulus didn't follow.

(A/N) 

Wow, this was a hard chapter to write! Why? That would involve a little character analysis of my own on Regulus:

Reading Deathly Hallows, I fell in love with Regulus. Despite all the evil he did, he did have a sense of nobility and right and wrong. I think Regulus honestly looked up to Sirius, like all younger siblings do to _some _point. But he wasn't as headstrong as his older brother, and so he followed the crowd and tried to do what was expected of him. Their mother was quite honestly, a hag. After Sirius proved to be such a disappointment, I think she was harder on her younger son. Then, once Regulus got in so deep with the death eaters, he knew deep down that it was wrong, but it was too late. Like Sirius said, "You don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death." (OotP, pg. 112 US version) If Regulus turned traitor, his family was dead. So he made the right choice, and none of his family never knew. Is there anything more heroic? No wonder I love the boy!

But back to the chapter. It was so hard to convey all this, because I was writing from Sirius's perspective, and Sirius truly didn't know what would become of his brother. He influenced Regulus, but he never did it consciously. How do you write that? I hope I didn't do too horribly. It took almost a week as is. I also didn't mention much of Andromeda in this chapter. People are probably surprised, seeing the effect she had on Sirius. But for the moment, he's got bigger fish to fry than to while his time away obsessing. Sirius has decided to let the mystery of Andromeda lie for now and be content. (At least, until next chapter). )


End file.
